


Something I Can Hold

by ABookAndACoffee



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Escorts, Client Cassian, Escort Nesta, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, NSFW, Porn With Plot, ohhh I've forgotten the sexy tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 00:01:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16230023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABookAndACoffee/pseuds/ABookAndACoffee
Summary: Nesta is an escort in Velaris when she gains a new customer: a man named Cassian who seems intent on making her break all of her rules."Nesta avoided looking at her client’s picture. Something about the photos felt voyeuristic, as if she were getting to see a part of them they hadn’t consented to. After all, she was the one they were paying for access to.And then, there it was - the man, Cassian, wasn’t just interested in sex. But he was undecided about whether he wanted to go all the way, emotionally-speaking.Well, Nesta would be sure to wring every last hundred dollar bill out of this Cassian. If that meant acting like she might care a bit more than usual, she could do that."





	1. Chapter 1

Nesta uncrossed and recrossed her legs, tapping her manicured fingernails on the marble tabletop. She had ten minutes until she was supposed to meet her new client, and it never served to be late. That luxury remained with the men and women who paid her, as did many others.

She turned on her phone screen, going through the details again. Male. Mid 20s. Professional, tied to some captain of industry. The son of one perhaps, or his protégé. Nothing new so far. 

Never married. That was a bit different. 

Nesta avoided looking at her client’s picture. Something about the photos felt voyeuristic, as if she were getting to see a part of them they hadn’t consented to. After all, she was the one they were paying for access to.

And then, there it was - the man, Cassian, wasn’t just interested in sex. But he was undecided about whether he wanted to go all the way, emotionally-speaking. 

Well, Nesta would be sure to wring every last hundred dollar bill out of this Cassian. If that meant acting like she might care a bit more than usual, she could do that. 

Nesta put her phone away. Rule number one when she was with a client: never let them feel like they don’t have your attention. Never remind them that they are paying dearly for your time, or hint that what is happening between you is anything less than genuine.

A man entered the café, the cold coming in with him on his dark grey wool coat. The tailored cut of his vest and pants matched her expectations. He wore them with ease, as if he were wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Nesta said a small prayer of thanks that he was one of those who didn’t let work get in the way of time at the gym. He was clearly from money, either through birth or a bit of good luck. Nesta had experienced neither, and so her efforts ensured that a good chunk of that wealth flowed from those more privileged, yet somehow entitled leaders of the city, to her own bank account. 

The man ignored greetings from the barista and scanned the room. When he turned his head towards her, Nesta was a bit surprised by the small scar along his sharp jaw. It seemed improper, somehow, that someone as finely made as him should have a chink there, a small flaw where everyone could see it. 

The man - Cassian, she presumed - strode towards her, all swagger, and she stood to great him. Nesta’s stiletto heels clicked on the marble floor as they made contact. It took no effort for her dress to fall into place. Hitting her knees, the lavender silk had a way of gliding up her thighs that seemed to titillate and inspire in various quantities. It was quite useful, for being a beautiful thing.

“Nesta Acheron I presume?” Cassian asked when he reached her. His thick, dark hair matched the scar. He seemed to be made of different parts, the clothing being the sort her usual clients would wear, while something untamed, something willing to put itself in harm’s way, lie hidden beneath.

Nesta raised her hand, palm facing the floor, expecting him to kiss the back of it. Instead, he shook her hand. She smiled sweetly, readjusting her expectations. “You can call me Nesta. And what should I call you, Mr.?” Clients’ surnames were often obscured, for their privacy. Nesta could make this man scream her name, would later be clenching one body part or another around his hardened cock, but she wasn’t supposed to know who he really was, outside of their dealings. 

“Cassian is good, thanks. Shall we?” He gestured to the table. 

“Actually, if it’s alright with you, Cassian, I’d rather go for a walk. My place?” Nesta turned without waiting for a response to find her purse and coat. She held her coat to Cassian, and in this he did not disappoint. He took it from her and she turned with a smile while he helped her into it. 

They stepped out into the cold city evening, the streets black and shining from the afternoon rain. Velaris held a special charm, with its twinkling lights and art district and the Sidra winding its way through the middle.

Nesta was affected by none of it. 

It’s not that Nesta couldn’t appreciate beauty. The fine fabric of her dress, the diamonds studding her ears, the taste with which she had furnished her apartment, it all spoke to someone whose eye for the aesthetic was not purchased from someone else. But Velaris was not her home, and every bit of it that shone seemed to be in spite of her, as if the very stones in the walls were somehow conspiring to remind her of what she left behind.

They strode towards her apartment, Nesta brushing against Cassian and then pulling away slightly to let cold air find its way between them. He’d merely cleared his throat and looked ahead, determined to keep his gaze away from the low neckline of her dress. 

“So, Cassian, tell me. What do you do here in Velaris?” Rule number two: act interested, even when you want to gouge your eyeballs out with a caviar spoon. 

“I work with my brothers. Corporate stuff. I’m in the security branch.” That explained the physique. 

“I like it,” Nesta replied.

Cassian looked down at her in surprise, though her heels continued to click on the sidewalk as if nothing were more quotidian than discussing professions on the way to her apartment to get fucked. 

“Usually,” he said, “People are less than impressed by my job. I’m corporate, yet still just the brawn of the operation. I didn’t go to business school or anything.” He said it as if he were apologizing. In Nesta’s estimation, that made him far more interesting.

Nesta shrugged. “We’ve all got to work, don’t we?” She smiled up at him conspiratorially. “Plus, it keeps you honest.” Nesta paused, waiting for him to prompt her to continue.

Rule number three: always keep them wanting. 

“In what ways, Nesta?”

She liked the way he said her name, the slight hesitation, like he hadn’t earned the right, like this intimacy hadn’t yet been earned. And truly, it hadn’t. But this sort of thing worked differently in her world.

“Well,” she began, “For starters, you don’t have to attend a bunch of boring meetings where you just tell people what they want to hear. If you decide to solve a problem physically, you can just get to it and no one will be surprised. No need for pointless democracy.” Cassian chuckled at her side. 

“And finally, when someone looks at you, they know they’re going to be fucked. No pretense.” Nesta took the opportunity to move closer, threading her arm in his. “Well, I suppose we could both say that about our respective professions, don’t you think?”

Cassian cleared his throat.

“But that’s enough about work.” Nesta stopped and gestured to a doorway. “This is my building. Would you like to come inside?” She tilted her head, gave him a moment to decide if he would cross the threshold. It was a pretty play, acting as if they had just had dinner and drinks, perhaps gone to the theater or the newest show at the National Gallery, and now were contemplating taking their relationship to more intimate places. 

Some clients didn’t want to bother with the pretense. Some clients would rather have Nesta against a wall the moment they stepped inside the doorway. But Cassian wasn’t that sort, she could tell already. 

Cassian nodded. 

Nesta turned to unlock her door, left it open behind her so that Cassian could still leave if he wanted. She smiled to herself as she put down her keys and heard the door shut behind her, the soles of his shoes on her wood floor. 

“Would you like me to show you around?” she asked. “Or I can get you a drink?” She shed her coat, putting it on the rack in the hall. 

He didn’t answer her, only took a step forward, unbuttoned his coat, took another step, hung it without looking away from her. Nesta slid her palms down her thighs, disturbing the fabric, reminding him of how quickly he could have her if he wanted. 

“I’ll take that drink,” he said, his voice low. 

“This way.” Nesta turned and led him down the hallway to her kitchen, where she flicked on the lights over the bar. They were silent while she poured, two fingers of bourbon for him and a small glass of Côte du Rhone for herself. Nesta slid Cassian’s drink across the bar to him, took a sip from her own, and then moved around it to stand next to him. 

Nesta placed a hand over Cassian’s, stilling him from the thrumming motion he made on the cold stone. She licked a drop of wine from her lips, leaned into him slightly. She would be lying if she weren’t looking forward to this, just a bit. Such a change from the older men who wanted an adventure away from their wives, or the younger, domineering men who just wanted someone to take their frustration out on. Women were a different story, but it was difficult to compare any of her previous experiences with this strange apologetic confidence she felt coming from Cassian.

They set their drinks on the bar at the same time. Cassian leaned down, threading his fingers through her loose waves before pressing his lips into her neck. Nesta felt the velvet of his lips brushing her skin, his hot breath, and leaned back slightly. She hooked her fingers into his belt loops, pulling him closer and grinding her hips on his. 

Cassian groaned and pulled away just enough to look at her before kissing her in earnest. His lips were slightly chapped, but Nesta had kissed worse. She grabbed some of his dark curls and pulled roughly, testing his boundaries. Cassian merely pressed her harder, his hands drifting down towards her rear but stopping short.

Nesta opened her mouth slightly, inviting him in. Cassian only hesitated for a moment before she felt his tongue on hers and he leaned in so hard that the bar was pressing uncomfortably on her back. She didn’t care. Nesta felt the beating of a heart and was so tightly entwined with Cassian that she wasn’t sure whose it was. It didn’t matter, of course. She ran her thumb over his jaw, wondered where that small notch had come from, wanted to kill whoever had done it. 

She needed this over, and soon. Thoughts about a client’s past were routine. Nesta had to learn about them, had to know who they were, how to please them. Getting oddly incensed over some old injury on a client she had just met was definitely going above and beyond her job requirements.

Nesta grabbed Cassian’s hand and put it on her thigh, pulling it up so that the fabric rose higher. He pulled his hand away. She tried to reach underneath his shirt, made a pleased sound at the hard stomach she felt there, but he evaded her grasp again. 

“Wait,” Cassian said into her mouth. 

Nesta held back a sigh. It wasn’t supposed to go this way. He was supposed to be all over her. She knew she looked good, she knew by the way he was trying to catch his breath and his wide pupils that he wanted her. She hadn’t expected him to be one of the shy ones.

“Why?” Nesta pulled back, took a step away from the bar, then another as he watched. She reached to the back of her dress, pulled the zipper down, let it fall from her shoulders. Cassian’s breath caught and he took her in, the pale lace that covered her torso, yet hid very little. 

Dressed in nothing but heels and lace, Nesta turned, slowly. She looked over her shoulder. “Follow me.” 

She walked to her bedroom, confident that if nothing else would work, perhaps the sight of her walking away from him would at least inspire Cassian’s curiosity. When she made it to the room she turned and perched on the edge of her bed, legs crossed as if she were preserving some modesty. 

Cassian entered the room, shutting the door behind him. “Nesta.” There it was again, that way he said her name, like she was the answer to a question, one he had asked ages ago and she was not yet privy to. Not that it mattered. Not when she was nearly naked and on her bed and ready to do whatever it took to satisfy him. 

He stepped towards the bed until he was close enough for her to hook her heels around the back of his leg, pulling him closer. Nesta smoothed her palm over the front of his pants, making a small sound of excitement when she felt how hard he was for her. So, all that hesitation was a pretense. How polite. 

Nesta unbuckled Cassian’s pants, slid his shirt from his shoulders, ran her palms over his stomach and chest before she turned her attention downward. In moments he was naked in front of her, and Nesta had to check her own greed. That’s not what she was there for. She looked up at him, widening her eyes as if she were a blushing virgin. When she knew he was watching, she took his cock into her hand, guiding it to her mouth. He fisted her hair in his hand, groaning and forgetting to breathe, again. 

And again, he pulled away. 

Nesta stood. “Did I do something wrong?” She crossed her arms over her chest. It was hardly protection, but it was something. 

“Nesta,” he began again, but his attention went to the strap of her bra. He put a finger underneath it, playing with the fabric, the idea that he could slide it ever so slightly and she might be rid of it. He seemed to contemplate the idea for a moment, then regained his composure. 

Pointing to the bed, Cassian commanded her. “Lie down.”

Nesta turned and slid onto the bed. “Now what?” Normally, she wouldn’t be so forward. The art of seduction was, after all, an art, and Nesta didn’t think that Cassian was the kind of guy who liked to work with instructions. It wouldn’t be the first time her initial impression had been wrong.

Cassian climbed into the bed after her, crawling over her until he was holding his weight above her own. His cock brushed her stomach, and they both felt it in every nerve. He lowered himself down, pressing her into the plush blankets and pillows for a moment until he kissed her again, with urgency. His hands were finally on her breasts, pinching her nipples through the lace, while his hips pressed into hers in a steady rocking motion. Nesta reached between them and unclasped her bra, throwing it on the floor. 

She reached down again between them and began to stroke Cassian when he pulled her hand away. “No, that’s not… I want to be inside of you,” he growled. 

Nesta reached over to her nightstand and, without looking, pulled out a condom. “Shall I do the honors?” Shaking his head, Cassian took it from her. While he busied himself with that, Nesta rid herself of her lace panties and stroked herself a few times, trying to catch his eye. 

Cassian settled back over her, and Nesta guided him into her. He groaned as he slid in, arms braced on either side of her head. He said her name again, and she wished he would stop, only because she also wished that he wouldn’t. Nesta lifted her hips, grasped Cassian’s arms, and made small, encouraging noises. She locked her legs around him, the heels of her stilettos digging into the back of Cassian’s thighs. It was a surprising amount of work, to be an active participant when a man nearly twice her size was pressing her into her bed and giving her little room to work with.

Cassian grunted as he thrust into Nesta, his face buried in her neck, and for a moment, he could have been anyone. All Nesta could see was the top of his head, the muscles of his arms holding her down, his cock inside of her and his hips pressing her legs open. 

A client. He was a client, she reminded herself. He may have paid for her intimacy, her work ethic thinly veiled in honesty, but she couldn’t expect the same in return. 

She wanted to come. She knew she wouldn’t. 

Nesta clenched her walls around Cassian’s cock and he groaned. A few more thrusts and he shuddered, his breath blowing hair in her face. He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead before rolling off of her and strolling to the bathroom. 

While he was gone, Nesta took the opportunity to clean herself up, donning her little lacy pieces and a black silk robe that barely covered her ass. She gathered their drinks from the kitchen as well, and was just re-entering the bedroom when Cassian reappeared. She handed Cassian’s bourbon to him and he flopped onto her bed. The nerves were gone, apparently.

Nesta settled herself into a deep chair next to her fireplace. She rested her cheek on her fist and watched Cassian. That post-coital haze had settled happily over him, and he seemed blissfully unaware of her own state. 

Or so she thought, until Nesta was startled out of her cynical reverie to realize that Cassian had propped himself up on one elbow, and was taking her in. She pulled the silk folds of her robe tighter around herself. He wasn’t look at her legs, long and lean and bare. Nor was he looking at her considerable décolletage. He was looking at her square in the face, and she could have sworn she saw concern in his eyes. That wouldn’t do.

“This is the part where you tell me what you want, Cassian.” 

He blinked. “What do you mean?” He downed the last of his drink and set the heavy glass on the nightstand. 

“So what, did you want the girlfriend experience?” Nesta sipped from her glass so carefully that only a hint of her burgundy lipstick was left behind. 

“I’m not sure, I’ve never-“ Cassian was stopped by Nesta’s hand held up.

“Let me guess. You’ve never done anything like this. You want to be respectful. You don’t know what I can and can’t do for you.”

“Yes.” 

Nesta leaned back into her chair. “Don’t worry, I have done this before. And we can take it as far as you want.” She waved a hand in the air. “You’ll need to talk to someone at the firm about the details.”

Cassian stood from the bed and walked over to her. Nesta stayed seated in her chair, unsure of what he would ask of her. Instead of demands, he reached up and brushed his knuckles along her cheekbone. Had her eyes been closed, she might have doubted she’d been touched. 

“I would like to see you again, Nesta Archeron.”

Nesta cleared her throat, set her glass down, and stood. “We can arrange that.” She’d said it with too much formality, and made a mental note to tone it down next time. It was just because she was uncomfortable, though she couldn’t imagine why.

“Would you like to stay here tonight?” she asked. 

“I think I would,” Cassian answered. 

Nesta smiled. She had done it. This young man, someone you would never cross in a boardroom or a dark alley, was quite nearly under her thumb. She’d followed the rules, she’d taken him to bed, and now he wanted more. 

Then again, rule number four was one she had never thought she was in danger of breaking: never, ever fall for a client.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassian takes Nesta to their first public event as a couple, where he introduces her to his family. First they have some sex though.

Cassian preferred walking to Nesta’s apartment. The subway was stifling, the crowds unavoidable. Using one of the company drivers felt like pretending to be someone or something he wasn’t. At least on a sidewalk, his presence caused others to move out of his way. There was also something in the cold, biting air that sobered him, helped him steel himself for an encounter that set his equilibrium spinning. 

In the beginning, he had chalked it up to her particular expertise. Nesta was a woman who knew what she was doing, practiced, sophisticated, adaptable. She’d just happened to adapt herself to become fire that tempered his steel. 

That, however, didn’t account for the way he could already read her at a glance, felt that when their skin met, he’d been waiting his whole life for just that moment. 

He’d had lovers. There was no problem there, but Cassian shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked, thinking about the string of men and women who had briefly entered his life, and left too soon. There was something wrong, he thought, with him. He gave his breath and energy and devotion to his brothers, loved them more than he thought possible, had created a new sort of family with them and Mor. Cassian went home alone, slept alone, but that wasn’t enough to account for his loneliness.

When Mor had suggested the service, Cassian thought she was joking. They were drinking at Rita’s, Mor eyeing her conquest for the evening, when she slid him a business card. Her ex-girlfriend, it turned out, had been a bit more complicated than he realized. The card was left in his wallet for months when he pulled it out one evening, worn around the edges, and three drinks in, he went online. 

And now here he was, at Nesta’s apartment, and Cassian knew that she would stick around for as long he wanted her to. As long as he paid her to. 

Nesta leaned out of the porcelain bathtub, wine glass in hand. The bubbles were in danger of overflowing, and while they were doing a lovely job of obscuring her nudity under the water, Cassian had to wonder just how strategic she was being in her movements, given her slight slips in modesty. 

“And how would you like to spend your evening,” Nesta was asking, though Cassian had a few thoughts in his head about what he would rather be doing now, and wasn’t sure he’d be able to respond.

The past week had been comprised of moments when he was with Nesta, and those when he was thinking about being with her again. Her jasmine perfume followed him everywhere, as did her sighs. He wondered at the way she gently pushed his boundaries, giving him what he wanted before he had to ask for it. 

What he had actually done during the week was up for debate. Rhys would say he hadn’t gotten much done at all in terms of work, and Feyre would probably agree. Azriel had noticed his absences, but hadn’t commented. Who knew what he would think. And Amren - Cassian didn’t even want to consider what Amren would have to say about how he was spending his time and money.

The only person he had told about this whole enterprise was Mor, who asked him about it in the most falsely casual manner the night after he had entered his credit card number, as if she were stalking his online activity. She also wouldn’t stop reminding him that she needed just a glance at the woman so she could decide if the going rate was worth it. She probably had his best interests at heart, but Cassian didn’t really feel like sharing this with anyone. At least not the full picture.

“What?” Cassian blinked, realized that Nesta would think he was ignoring her, though his head was filled with little else.

“I said,” she dragged a fingertip over the edge of the bathtub, “What do you want to do this evening?”

Cassian knew the answer, in fact. “I wondered if you would go somewhere with me. There is this event my brother and his wife are hosting and I need to go.” 

Nesta took a sip of wine and leaned back into the tub. “Casual? Business casual? Black tie?”

Cassian started at how easily she moved into his life. Then again, he reminded himself, she had done this before. “Black tie, if you have anything on this short of notice. I can try to let you know ahead of time, in the future.”

“It’s fine,” Nesta said, waving her hand towards her closet. “I’m always prepared. How about you go in there, find the beaded red dress, floor-length, the tags are still on it. Then you can come help me get ready.” She smiled wickedly, running her fingers through the water and disturbing just enough so that the directions she’d given him were nearly forgotten. 

Cassian stood and opened the doors to her closet, taking in the wools and silks, noting the clothes he had seen her in and where, and often when he had taken them off of her. He ran a hand over the fabrics, saw a row of hangers that seemed to have nothing but strips of lace and ribbons hanging from them. He cleared his throat and moved on until he found the requested red dress. He pulled out the label to check for the price tag, and nearly choked. The dress was worth more than he made in a month. 

A sudden rush of inadequacy engulfed him. He came from nothing, and what he did have he owed to his own hard work, and to Rhys. Nesta looked like she had been born in a gilded palace, and here he was, paying for the privilege of touching her. He wondered for a moment if she would have given him a second glance, in different circumstances. 

Cassian walked out of the closet, the dress cradled in his arms. 

“You can lay it on the bed.” Nesta had gotten out of the bathtub and hadn’t bothered with a towel. She sipped from her glass, watching Cassian over its rim as she swayed her hips.

He took in the water dripping from her hair between her breasts, the small puff of bubbles resting on one shoulder, her bare feet on the carpet. She had pulled her hair up into a messy bun, and the steam had stuck loose pieces to her neck. She was indeed made of fire, but there were moments when she seemed downright fearless to expose herself as merely flesh. 

“We have some time before we have to go, you know.” Cassian took a step towards her.

Nesta made a noise that was half question, half amusement.

Cassian walked closer, closer, until he was pressed against Nesta, pressed harder, more, until she was forced to back into a wall. He took her glass and set it on a nearby table. Angling her chin up, he kissed her, not bothering to be gentle. Nesta was slight between his mass and the wall, but she resisted him enough to not be overwhelmed, leaned into him as much as he did into her. She reached up to untuck his shirt, unbuckle his pants, but he held her wrists. 

“Wait.”

Cassian slid down until he was on his knees before Nesta, and she whimpered. 

“Where did you come from,” he breathed into her stomach. She threaded her fingers through his hair, tugging slightly, and he reached down to relieve himself, just for a moment, because that wasn’t why he had gone to his knees. Nesta’s breathing became, shallow, quick. He ventured a finger between her legs, testing, slipped it easily along her folds. She moaned, pressing her hips forward. Cassian lifted her leg and tasted her with the tip of his tongue. The ghost of a sensation caused Nesta to press into him, but he pushed her hips back.

“When I say, Nesta. I say when you come.”

To his surprise she nodded, her eyes closed. She leaned her head back, moaned despite the fact that he hadn’t touched her again yet, and Cassian settled himself back between her legs. Moments later he was fully immersed in Nesta, heard nothing but her whispering his name, felt nothing but the skin of her thighs on his face and tasted the slick of her folds on his tongue.

A string of profanity escaped Nesta’s mouth as she came and she leaned forward, bracing her hands on Cassian’s shoulders. Her entire body shook, and Cassian stood to embrace her, to keep her from falling. Her head fell to his shoulders and they stood like that, Cassian stroking her back, Nesta cradled in his arms, until her breathing steadied and Cassian’s heart had never felt so full.

Nesta stood straight, placing a hand against Cassian’s chest. Neither of them spoke as she moved around him towards her closet. She began to rifle through her dresser, pulling scraps of lace from the drawers before she came back out.

“Nesta, have you come before?” The nature of their relationship emboldened him to ask such a question. “I don’t mean in general, I mean with me.” Even if she was being paid for her artifice, Cassian thought he had detected something more genuine when he was on his knees in front of her, in the way she moved against him and the hitch in her breathing. 

She hesitated, and he couldn’t blame her. Cassian didn’t know exactly what lies she was expected to tell - you’re so big, I want it so much, yes please, come on my face - but doubted that dissatisfaction on her part was ever part of the deal. 

“It’s ok. I’m just curious.”

Nesta sighed, then shrugged. “I don’t exactly expect to. It’s not about me.” She turned and pulled her plush robe from a hook on the bathroom door, wrapping it around herself. 

“That’s not an answer.”

“Then no. I didn’t. Not until just then.” Nesta smiled. 

Cassian nodded. “Do they usually… do people ever ask? Or try?”

“No,” Nesta answered. “But it’s rude to watch a lady get ready for a party. Spoils the magic.”

Cassian took the hint and headed for her bedroom door. He placed his hand on the doorknob, but stopped. “Nesta.” She turned towards him, her dress in her arms. “I’m going to make sure you do. Every time.”

Smiling, Nesta closed her bathroom door behind her, and Cassian headed to her living room for a drink.

*****

Cassian and Nesta found themselves in the ballroom of the Four Seasons an hour later. They walked in and Cassian placed a hand on the small of Nesta’s back, assuming she would need guidance or support of some nature, as she was walking into a lion’s den. And being who she was - what she was - surely couldn’t have helped. 

However, mere moments after they entered, Nesta said she needed to use the restroom to check her lipstick and walked away in the proper direction, without asking where it was. 

Apparently, she wouldn’t need as much guidance as he’d thought.

Cassian’s brother and his new wife would be at the center of attention tonight, and he just needed to be sure that his presence was noticed. Mor was much more adept at the whole diplomacy thing and would be flitting around the place. Cassian looked for her but felt Nesta at his arm, handing him a drink. 

“Cheers,” she said, raising her glass. She tucked herself into his side, and Cassian’s heart skipped a beat. “Who do we need to be seen by?”

Cassian looked down at her and chuckled. “What makes you think I just need to be seen?”

“Why else come to these things?” She linked her arm with Cassian’s and began to lead him around the room. “Other than the free booze. I can’t speak much for the food.” She sniffed at a passing tray laden with cucumber sandwiches. 

“My brother,” Cassian said. “And his wife. This is their event, a new charity they are starting, art and children.”

“And what are their names?” Nesta asked. “If I’m your girlfriend,” she said, and Cassian’s heart sunk at the word, at the untruth of it, “Then I should know about your family.”

“You’ve never told me about your family, either,” Cassian pointed out.

“True,” Nesta said, “But we aren’t likely to run into my family, are we? Besides, we barely speak.” Nesta finished her glass of champagne and looked for another. Cassian recognized a glint of hunger in her eyes that spoke of desperation, and not for sustenance. 

“I’m sorry for that,” Cassian said. “I know something about family not being there for you. However, my brother is an exception. His name is Rhysand Chevalier. And my sister-in-law-“ Cassian was interrupted by a strong hand clapping him on the back. 

“Cassian! Good to see you here.” A dark-haired man with violet eyes was already sizing Nesta up by the time they realized they had been interrupted. 

Cassian released Nesta and she swayed on her feet slightly. “Rhys.” He hugged his brother back, and a woman in a deep purple dress joined them. 

“Cassian,” she said, “I’m so glad you could make it after all.” She stopped speaking and lost her smile when she looked at Nesta.

“Rhys, Feyre,” Cassian said, pulling Nesta closer with an arm around her waist. “This is Nesta Archeron.”

Feyre raised an eyebrow. “Nesta. It’s been a while.”

Cassian looked back and forth between them. “You know each other?”

“My maiden name,” Feyre said, “Is Archeron.”

“Oh.” The impact of what Nesta had just told him sank in. “Oh shit.” He turned to Nesta and leaned in close like a lover, which of course they were, but not quite in that way. “Do you want to leave?”

Nesta shook her head slightly, her hair tickling his cheek. “No, of course not.” She gave a sweet smile to Feyre that didn’t meet her eyes. “You need to be here for your friends.” Nesta raised her glass in a toast to Feyre. 

“I need to find Lucien,” Feyre said. “If you’ll excuse me.” She walked away after nodding her head briefly at her sister, and Cassian felt the tension leave Nesta’s body. 

Rhys watched Feyre leave, and then turned back to Nesta and Cassian. “So, Nesta, we heard that Cassian had met someone new. We were all thrilled for him, so I’m glad to finally meet you. And of course I’ve heard about you, from Feyre.”

Cassian’s heart stopped for an entirely different reason. If Feyre was Nesta’s sister, did she know? Would they all know that he had paid for Nesta to be at his side that night? 

Nesta took two glasses from a passing tray and handed one to Cassian, taking the other for herself. “Feyre is my sister, yes.”

There was a beat, and Cassian fumbled for words. 

“Well I should go find her.” Rhys clapped Cassian on the back again. “Check your email, Cass.”

“Not on the weekends,” Cassian called as Rhys walked away.

He waited a moment before he spoke, sure that neither Rhys nor Feyre could overhear them. “Are you ok?” Cassian asked Nesta. 

Nesta’s frown disappeared when she met his eyes, remembering that they were there together, on a date. “Of course. I didn’t know that you knew Feyre.” She set her glass on a passing tray. “What shall we do now, Cassian?” Nesta purred his name and he remembered why she was there at his side. 

“Nesta, if you want to go, it’s ok.” 

Nesta looked around the room, eyes narrowed at the other partygoers. Was she wondering who else amongst them would interrupt, ruin their ruse? Before she could answer, they met another of his friends.

“Cassian!” A tall, gorgeous blonde woman was walking towards them, but her eyes were on Nesta. “I’m so glad you could come.” She leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, and he had to let go of Nesta for a moment.

“Mor,” Cassian said, pulling away and wrapping an arm around Nesta again. He felt much more her anchor than he had when they walked in, though it unnerved him, to see Nesta so off-balance. 

“This is Nesta, my date.”

“Girlfriend,” Nesta corrected, and again Cassian felt a pang in his chest. “Nice to meet you, Mor.” 

“You as well.” Mor winked at Cassian. So much for subtlety. “I love your dress,” Mor exclaimed. “Murad, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Nesta answered. There was a pregnant silence, a place in which Nesta was supposed to have returned the compliment or commented on Mor’s taste or fashion expertise, something of that nature, Cassian was sure. Nothing happened, but the two looked one another over. 

“Well we are certainly all glad that Cassian has found such a lovely lady to accompany him to these boring things.” Mor laughed and winked, this time at Nesta, who just cocked her head in response. Cassian could feel aggressive friendliness coming off Mor in waves, which was matched equally by a wall that Nesta had put up. She had never been so guarded around him before. 

Cassian glanced over at Nesta and saw a fresh glass in her hand. When had she gotten that? How many had she had? It didn’t seem that they had been there long enough. Perhaps it was just the surprise family encounter, he reasoned. A hint of doubt buried itself deep within him, and he thought of the wine she’d had while she had gotten ready for the evening. Had she been finishing a bottle? He couldn’t remember.

When it became clear that Nesta was not in a chatting mood, Mor made her excuses, reminded Cassian that they had a dinner date the next night, and wandered away. 

“Time to leave?” Cassian barely looked at Nesta as he asked. He felt rather than saw her nod in agreement, and they went to coat check. 

They rode home in silence, and Cassian wondered if he had done something wrong. There was no reason for him to worry, not really. He just wouldn’t invite her to anymore family functions. So why did he feel so damn guilty for putting Nesta in that position, even if it was unintentional?

The car stopped in front of Nesta’s building, and Cassian placed a hand on her arm before she could step out. “Nesta, I’m sorry about how this evening went. I didn’t realize that it might be difficult for you, given who was there. I know you said you aren’t close to your sister, but if you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

“Don’t worry, Cassian,” Nesta said. She pulled her arm away from him as she stepped out of the car. “My sisters don’t know what I do to pay the bills. And I won’t tell them. Have a good night.”

Nesta slammed the car door shut before Cassian could respond.


	3. Chapter 3

After the fiasco with Nesta’s family and the gala, she wasn’t sure how Cassian would respond. She normally had a better head for these things; after all, Rhys knew her clients more often than not, and where Rhys went, so went Feyre. Keeping her personal and professional lives separate was a trick that she doubted anyone recognized, let alone appreciated. And now, with a renewed sense of why, exactly, it was so important to keep them apart, Nesta chastised herself to be more aware of what was going on outside her bedroom walls. 

Cassian called her to set up a time to meet, at her place, and there was little discussion beyond that. He acted as if nothing had happened, and Nesta supposed that a good girlfriend, the type that men like him wanted to keep around, would have let it all slide. No need to make a fuss, never a reason to make a scene, even if she quietly seethed. 

The last time Nesta had seen Cassian, she had made thinly-veiled accusations that he was ashamed of her. 

The next time that Nesta and Cassian met, they fell into bed together without a word.

Well, they reached the bed eventually. First, Cassian took Nesta against her front door, not caring if they made so much noise her neighbors would venture into the hallway to see what all that pounding was. Then she went to her knees as he fisted her hair and closed his eyes in the kitchen. The marble floors were hard and cold and punishing, but she pushed herself harder until her eyes watered and he was groaning in a way that satisfied Nesta because she knew she had done her job well. There was the additional fact that his groan made her wet, but she would think about that later.

Getting straight to business was nothing new. Some clients didn’t even look her in the eye, bother to acknowledge that they were interacting with a human. But this, with Cassian… It was hunger and fire and Nesta hadn’t known herself to anticipate work with quite this level of enthusiasm before. She might have been fooling herself, but it seemed that he wanted her, that it wasn’t just the curves and lace and whimpers and way she would suck him and let him do whatever he wanted with her. 

Nesta wouldn’t say that she had been waiting for Cassian that evening with anything more than the usual anticipation of seeing a client. She wouldn’t say that she had been thinking all day about the way his breath felt on her skin, or the way he asked her what she wanted. Nesta would never even tell Elain about all the dirty thoughts she had about Cassian, not because she was thinking of ways to be better at her job, but because she didn’t want him to be disappointed.

It rankled her, that this one client could make all sense fly right out of her head, discarded like the lacy underthings that now littered the pathway to her bedroom.

When Nesta fell asleep before kicking Cassian out for the night, a brief twinge at the wrongness of it coursed through her. Then Cassian pulled her in closer to his chest, and she knew she wouldn’t be asking him to leave. 

She closed her eyes, and allowed him to stay.

*****

Waking up the next morning, Nesta had a brief moment where a smile ghosted on her lips. Cassian was beside her on his stomach, and all she could see was a mess of dark curls. She traced her fingertips over the warm skin of his back, ran a line down his biceps, listened to the deep, steady rhythm of his breath. She squeezed her thighs together, wondering if he would be the type who liked waking up to find her on top of him. 

Then she sighed, turned over onto her back, and thought again, wondering if she had made the biggest mistake she could have, given her profession. Nesta punched the down comforter that covered them with a bit too much force, and Cassian startled awake. 

Cassian lifted his head from his pillow and turned towards her, blinking. “Nesta?”

“Good morning, Cass. Cassian,” she corrected. “How did you sleep?”

Cassian propped his head up, his elbow on the pillow and his face cradled in his palm. “Good.” He smiled sleepily, and Nesta looked away. “How about you?” He ran his free palm down her arm, and she stiffened to keep from leaning in. But that was what she was supposed to do, wasn’t it? 

Nesta sat up in the bed, covering herself with the duvet. “Good.” She nodded and then cleared her throat. “Look, Cassian, this isn’t normal. I just thought I would let you know. Staying the night, it’s a rule, and I broke it, and I shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t have let you stay.”

Cassian rolled back over and looked at the ceiling. “Whose rule is it?”

Nesta frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Is it what you want, or is it in the employee guide?”

Nesta’s frown became more pronounced, and she was glad he wasn’t watching her play the role of the decidedly _un_ happy girlfriend. The fucking employee guide, indeed. “It’s my rule, ok?”

“Ok.” Cassian stayed on his back, blinking at the ceiling. An uncomfortable moment passed before he spoke again. 

“So then why did you let me stay?”

Nesta had been awake a full five minutes before Cassian, he had invaded her dreams all night, and yet she didn’t have an answer, or not one that she could tell with ease that would satisfy her need to keep him apart from her private life.

“Look, Cassian, the girlfriend experience is all about you, right? I’m supposed to make you forget who I am, what I do, so I let you stay, because that’s what I would do if I were in love with you.” She bit the tip of her tongue to keep from sighing. “But you’re free to bring it up, to mention what I do.” She sat up in bed. “Any time you want,” she added bitterly.

“Don’t do that, Nesta.” 

“Do what?” She crossed her legs and sat up straighter. 

Cassian turned towards her before sitting up to look her in the eye. He clasped her hands, and Nesta met his gaze without blinking. “Look,” he said, “I’m not sure what your deal is, but I was just worried about you the other night, ok?”

Nesta’s brow furrowed. “Me?”

“Yeah, you. I didn’t mean to put you in a situation where you were uncomfortable. I had no idea that you knew Rhys and Feyre.” Cassian released her hands, and they fell into her lap. “I wouldn’t have asked you to go, if I had known. Or I wouldn’t have gone.” Cassian sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, Nesta, the thing is that I know you’re acting, I’m aware that I probably spent a fortune last night that I wasn’t even conscious for, just because I was here and sleeping next to you. But I also know that you didn’t ask me to leave. And that I didn’t want you to.” 

While he spoke, Nesta’s posture became more relaxed, though her eyes narrowed in suspicion. He had asked her about Rhys and Feyre in the town car because he was worried she would talk, she had been sure of it. But thinking back, Nesta questioned her conviction. Had he asked her if Feyre knew about her profession, or had that conversation happened in her head? 

Nesta smoothed the blanket over her lap before replying. There were a few directions the conversation could go. One meant ending everything, telling Cassian that she was no longer comfortable with their arrangement. Another meant lying, pretending that she didn’t care if he had seen her in a moment that could have destroyed everything. And the final option, the honest one, was telling Cassian that she wasn’t comfortable, not because he didn’t care enough, but because she cared too much.

“Okay,” she said.

“Okay?” Cassian poked her in the ribs and she slapped his hand away.

“Okay, because I can’t argue on an empty stomach. And I’m assuming you need to reach a certain amount of protein before 9am or your muscles will deflate like balloons. Right?” 

Then again, there was always the option wherein she denied anything was wrong and waited to see if he accepted the ruse.

Cassian flopped onto his back. “Nesta, you will be the death of me.”

“Well, do you want breakfast or what?” Nesta threw the blankets to the side and stood. She hadn’t bothered to put any clothing, and stood in front of him, unabashedly naked. 

“Yes, please. Do you have bacon? And eggs? And coffee?” Cassian grinned at Nesta and she would have been tempted to crawl back into bed, were it not for the growling coming from her stomach.

“Fine, I’ll add the groceries to your bill.” Nesta said it offhand, as if Cassian’s bill referred to nothing more than the daily newspaper delivery. 

Cassian turned red. “Don’t do that. I mean, yeah, if you want.”

Nesta threw her head back and laughed, a real laugh that he hadn’t seen from her before. “You really don’t know what you’re doing, do you,” she asked him.

“And you do, in this situation?” Cassian raised an eyebrow and Nesta sobered. She picked up a pillow and threw it at his head, which he easily caught.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes. Towels are in that closet,” she pointed, “If you wanted to get cleaned up.”

Nesta pulled a robe around herself and walked to the kitchen with her heart racing, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling until she couldn’t contain it any longer and the smile broke through. He hadn’t been worried about her for his own sake, but for hers, and damn if no one else had ever cared before about how comfortable or uncomfortable she was in a given situation. 

She pulled a carton of eggs from the refrigerator, stacked with milk and bacon. She cut strawberries and placed them in a bowl while the bacon sizzled and she let that grin live there, plain as day on her face while she was alone in her kitchen and no one could see it. Nesta dropped blueberries into the bowl, one at a time, making up a small song as she did so. She was acting ridiculous, but it only mattered if Cassian walked in and saw how he made her feel when she wasn’t pretending.

Then again, Cassian seemed like he might not want her to act. That he might want her to be happy. 

Nesta loaded a tray of food, all on serving platters and stacked to overflowing. She pushed away the thought that she was here taking care of him, that she was giving him not only the girlfriend experience, but the Potential Fiancée Experience, the Woman Who Cares Too Much Experience. 

But fuck it, she was hungry.

Nesta walked back into the bedroom and her heart felt like it was crumpling and expanding at the same time. Cassian sat up in her bed, bare from the waist up, and he was flipping through the book she kept on her nightstand. A rush of panic went through her before she realized that it was a book of poetry - just not the book she was writing herself. That book rested safely on the nightstand where she had left it.

She set the tray on the bed and then reached to the nightstand, throwing the lined notebook in the drawer. “Breakfast is served. And billed to the appropriate accounts.” She winked before she flopped onto the bed, grabbing a slice of bacon. 

Cassian set the book to the side and eyed the tray hungrily. “This looks delicious.” He looked back up at her, caught her eye. “Thank you.”

Nesta shrugged. “Of course. I’m a breakfast-in-bed kind of person anyway.” She reclined on her pillow and looked away from Cassian as the blanket fell away from him and she could see his taut stomach, the line where she had trailed her lips the evening before.

The next minutes were filled with satisfied sounds, chewing, Nesta asking if Cassian took cream or sugar in his coffee - neither, thanks - and they sat together, though not quite. Nesta thought about what Cassian had said, while he thought about who knew what.

Steeling herself, Nesta came to a decision. She could do this. And she could do it without caring, if she focused exclusively on the parts of their relationship that didn’t make her question what she felt and why and for whom.

After the tray was cleared of food, Nesta placed it on the floor. She pressed Cassian back into the bed and took control of herself, of what he thought of her, of the situation. 

Nipping his lower lip between her teeth, Nesta made a small noise that had him gripping her arms. She pinned him down on the bed and shook her head. No, this would not go the way he thought; it may have been his money, and his time, but she was going to make sure that he was aware of just how in control she was.

Nesta stood and looked down at Cassian, at his hardened cock, at the openness in his expression and the path that led to his wallet.

“You can shower now,” Nesta said, dropping her robe. “If you want. With me.” Nesta wandered towards the bathroom, and smirked as she heard Cassian stumbling after her.


	4. Chapter 4

Cassian offered to take Nesta to breakfast a few days later, and it felt like a date. He seemed awkward asking, as if they hadn’t been having sex regularly for weeks, as if he hadn’t asked her while his breath was still ragged from the way she had ridden him. 

Nesta was used to men being awkward around her, for one reason or another. Typically, it was either that or they flipped a switch and thought that being domineering and insensitive to her needs was the only other option. But Cassian wasn’t so much unsure of himself as he was of her, and what she would say. 

Of course, Nesta said yes. She could only ever say yes, but she also recognized that she had earnestly wanted to. And so slowly but surely, Nesta had found herself breaking all of her rules, convincing herself that it was because she wanted to. Surely, if what she wanted was to spend more time with Cassian outside of the bedroom than in it, that made her job easier? It wasn’t often that a girl in her line of work got to spend so much time off her back. Or had a client who was so invested in making her come. Over, and over, and over again. 

Getting ready in the morning, Nesta worked her hair until it was strategically, carelessly wavy. Her forest green dress had a way of setting off her eyes, and a swipe of deep red lipstick was the last step in reminding Cassian exactly how much she was worth. 

Cassian had sent the company car to pick Nesta up and drive her to the restaurant, but she gave the driver different directions. Knocking on his door, she held her breath in anticipation. He would be surprised to see her, certainly. But what if someone else was there, with him? It wouldn’t matter to Nesta of course, though it might be rather awkward, trying to explain who she was and why she was there. 

She could hear Cassian speaking as his shoes clicked on the floor. When he opened the door, he wore a surprised look.

“I’ll have to call you back,” he said, and shoved his phone in his pocket. 

Nesta’s shoulders loosened. He was alone, and from his tone on the phone, likely on a work call. 

“Nesta, weren’t we supposed to meet at the restaurant?” He shrugged on his jacket and took her arm, prepared to lead her into the hallway.

“Yes,” she said, gently pushing her way into his rooms. She hadn’t seen his apartment before, and wanted to take it in before Cassian had had a chance to make it pristine for guests. 

Clearly, he hadn’t been expecting anyone. Nesta walked through a small entryway before it opened out into a living room with views over the city. A quick turn had her facing the kitchen, which had a bar overlooking the living room. The walls were white, as if Cassian had just moved in. An empty milk carton sat on the counter above the trashcan, opened and unopened mail sat in distinct piles on his dining room table. The table only had one place cleared that a person could eat at, and the rest were neat piles of paperwork. 

“Work?” 

He nodded in confirmation. 

“Hm.” 

Nesta continued strolling, taking in the smaller details. Cassian’s couch was comfortable, his tv large but not so big that he was trying to compensate for another lack. It was his walls that Nesta became the most interested in. There were no art prints, no professional photographs of places he would be unable to identify, but instead there were candid photos. Nesta spotted Mor, looking gorgeous, and Cassian, more often than not with his arms around Rhys and another man, a grin on his face. They were his family, she realized. Instead of pictures of parents and cousins and kids, Cassian’s walls were covered in pictures of his friends. 

“Who is that?” Nesta pointed to a man with Cassian and Rhys, the one who didn’t smile in any of the pictures, though she detected a hint of amusement. 

“That’s Azriel. He’s one of us. Like a brother,” he clarified. 

Nesta nodded and kept going down the line of Cassian’s photos until she came across a set that stopped her in her tracks. Cassian had photos of Feyre and Elain on his wall. In them, Feyre was feeding wedding cake to Rhys, Cassian was giving a speech while Feyre looked on and beamed, and there was one of Cassian dancing at the wedding with Elain. Nesta’s chest ached, knowing she’d never belong in any of Cassian’s pictures, and maybe more so because her family was in them.

Turning away abruptly, Nesta walked to the other end of room, towards the kitchen. On the way was a bookshelf. Nesta doubted that she and Cassian had similar reading tastes, but his would tell her something. The shelf was a mix of books and objects he had likely picked up on trips. Nesta ran her fingers over them, pleased that they didn’t come away dusty. 

She eyed a book that had clearly been tossed on the top shelf of Cassian’s bookshelf. Picking it up, she spun and grinned at him. “The Kama Sutra?”

Cassian grabbed it from her and set it back on the shelf. “It’s not just about sex, you know. Besides, it was a gift. From Mor.”

“Ah.” Nesta bit the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning too much. She crossed her arms and strolled around Cassian’s living room, running her fingers over shelves, thumbing through pages, testing the softness of a throw lying over the back of the couch. She felt Cassian watching every move she made, and she knew exactly how it felt for her to run her fingertips over his belongings, but nowhere near him. Finally, she turned. “Show me the bedroom?” 

“I can’t, actually.” 

Nesta tilted her head and pretended to look wounded. 

“I mean I made reservations at this place,” Cassian continued, “I don’t want to be late because I had to use Rhys’s name. There are bottomless mimosas involved.” He paused, thinking about the night they had gone to the gala and run into Rhys and Feyre. “Of course, they have other things to drink, too.”

“Ok, Mom,” Nesta said, heading towards the door. “Do you want to keep the driver waiting?”

Nesta held Cassian’s hand in her lap on the ride to the restaurant, though she might as well have been holding her own. 

By now, Nesta had thrown out her old rulebook. There was little point in trying to put up boundaries that she didn’t even want, even if a small voice in the back of her heard told her she’d regret it. There was nothing inherently sexy about going to brunch together, though there was something decidedly couple-y about it. Brunch was the sort of activity one did upon waking up late on the weekend, perhaps meeting up with mutual friend couples and talking about mortgages and the difficulty of finding good childcare. 

Or so Nesta assumed. Not that she’d ever engaged in such pedestrian behavior. 

Cassian hummed to the music on the radio and tapped his fingers on Nesta’s leg as they drove. For a moment, she wanted to throw him off and jump out of the car at the next red light. She couldn’t be a girlfriend, not the type he wanted or needed. Usually guys who asked for that eventually devolved into needing a mother, or needing someone to boss around. But Cassian kept treating her like an equal, and Nesta wasn’t quite sure what to do about that. 

Once seated at the restaurant, the waiter rattled off a list of specials, and Nesta ordered without looking at the menu. 

“Have you been here before,” Cassian asked her. 

“No, I just know what I want,” she answered. “Champagne?” A bottle had been waiting for them at the table, and Nesta expertly opened it and poured herself a drink before waiting for Cassian’s response.

“Sure.”

Nesta poured out his glass, stopping just before the bubbles overflowed, and handed it back to him. “It’s a good thing this place has bottomless mimosas,” she commented.

“This isn’t a mimosa.”

She shrugged. “It’s only missing one ingredient.” She eyed his phone, face-down on the table. Nesta tapped her fingers in a line across the table until her fingernails clicked on its case. “May I?”

Cassian’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Sure?”

Nesta picked up his phone and went straight to the camera. “Take my picture,” she commanded, handing it back to him. 

Cassian raised the phone and looked into the screen while Nesta posed with her champagne flute. She didn’t smile, but did her best to look directly at whoever would end up seeing that photo. After a few moments of holding the same expression, she relaxed her face, then bit her lip, took a drink, and then posed again. 

“Cassian? Are you going to tell me when you’re ready?”

Cassian blinked. “Oh, yeah. Ready?” 

Nesta posed again, waiting for a sign that he had taken the picture. When he set the phone back on the table, she set her drink down and reached across the table for the phone. “Let me see?”

They were interrupted by a waiter bringing their food, and when Nesta looked at his side of the table again, Cassian’s phone was gone. Pursing her lips, she decided to let the matter go. Likely he had only managed to take the one picture, and he might not have even wanted that one.

As Nesta ate her avocado toast on whole wheat and Cassian ate his protein-packed breakfast, Nesta remembered one of the first rules that she still needed to keep. Keep the focus on him, make sure that he knows he’s the only person she’s thinking about. 

“So, you mentioned Azriel from the pictures. How do you all know each other?” 

Cassian set down his fork and nodded. “Azriel and I grew up together. You could say we were fostered by the Chevaliers. Rhys’s mom had a habit of taking in downtrodden kids, and both our parents worked the grounds. When my mom got sick, and then Az’s, they helped us out.” 

“She sounds like she was a lovely woman,” Nesta said.

“She was,” Cassian replied, “I was torn up when she and Rhys’s sister passed.”

Nesta raised an eyebrow in sympathy and surprise.

“It was rough on everyone, of course. But Az and I were there for Rhys. I’ve never had much family of my own.”

Nesta nodded, this time in understanding. “I noticed. In your pictures, I mean.” She cleared her throat and took another sip of champagne. “And Mor? I noticed she’s in a lot of pictures.” Nesta asked the question without looking up at Cassian, but she could still hear the smile in his reply.

“Oh, Mor and I were a thing.” 

Nesta looked up and frowned. 

“Briefly,” he added. “But alas, she had other people in mind.”

“Like Azriel?”

Cassian burst out laughing. “No, nothing like that. No, she’s had a few girlfriends here and there, but none have stuck. And I think she prefers her partners with less testosterone, in general.”

“I see.” Nesta picked up her fork and resumed eating. 

“And you?” Cassian let the question hang, so that it could mean whatever Nesta needed it to mean.

“I haven’t had a great relationship with my family. For various reasons.”

“Friends?”

She shook her head. “I was never one for those, either.” She leaned back in her chair, holding her glass out for the waiter to refill her from a fresh bottle of champagne without acknowledging him. 

“But it’s good,” Nesta added, “That you have friends who are there for you. It seems… nice.”

“Nice?”

Nesta nodded. 

“Ness, sweetheart.” Cassian stopped abruptly and shook his head. “You should hang out with us sometime.”

Nesta raised an eyebrow. 

“Ok, maybe not with Feyre. Unless you want to.”

The conversation was too close to home, and Nesta shifted in her seat. The bubbles from her champagne were getting to her head, and all she wanted was to figure out where Cassian’s phone had gone so she could delete the picture he had taken of her. 

“I’d like to take you away, Nesta. For a long weekend.”

Nesta raised an eyebrow in an arch she must have practiced a thousand times. “Are you sure?”

Cassian set his wallet on the table. “I’m sure.”

Nesta’s eyes zeroed in on his wallet. “I could use some new dresses, I suppose.”

“Nesta,” Cassian said, “Do you have to make everything so…”

“So what, Cassian,” she asked, challenging him. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to slap him or straddle him. 

Cassian pulled a card from his wallet and held it up for the waiter, who came from behind Nesta. She immediately felt shame run through her. 

“Which weekend?” Trying to smooth over the miscommunication wasn’t her strong suit, so she opted to ignore it. 

“We can talk about it later.”

After paying the bill and calling for the car, Cassian stopped at the restroom, leaving Nesta to get into the car so she could be driven home. Instead, Nesta paced outside of the building, the traffic and crowds a cold, unwelcome intrusion from the breakfast she had spent with Cassian. 

Nesta waited for mere minutes before going to the driver and leaning in the window. “We’ll be a little while.” She walked back into the building without waiting for a response, and asked for the maitre d’ for the restroom. 

Smoothing her skirt over her legs, checking her lipstick in her phone’s camera, Nesta took a deep breath and followed Cassian into the restroom. He was at the sink washing up, and didn’t look up at her until he heard the click of the lock. 

“Nesta?” His voice came out raspy, as if he already knew why she was there. 

She strode to him quickly, her long legs making short work of the distance. Pulling him down by his collar she kissed him, sloppy and desperate and surely this was something that he had a fantasy about at some point, hadn’t he? 

Nesta wondered if she were helping Cassian live out his fantasies, or if it was the other way around. 

Then again, excuses didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Cassian was along for the ride, and would keep paying for it.

Cassian whispered Nesta’s name against her mouth and ran his hands up her body until her dress was bunched up under her shoulders. He slid his hands underneath her bra and she moaned and covered his hands with her own. 

The door handle rattled, and they both turned their heads. “Occupied!” they shouted in unison. 

Cassian’s laugh was soon stifled as Nesta kissed him. She reached down to push her panties to the floor, then leaned back onto the sink. She placed one stilettoed heel on his chest, digging in just enough to be uncomfortable. 

“What do you want, Cassian?”

He reached up with one hand and stroked the inside of her thigh with his thumb, placed a kiss on her calf, then pushed her leg up onto his shoulder.

“You know what I want.” He spoke so close to her cheek that her hair fluttered with his breath, and Nesta closed her eyes. 

The sound of Cassian undoing his belt and unzipping his pants nearly undid her. He pulled away from her kisses long enough to catch her eye, to which she nodded quickly, thrusting her hips forward. 

Nesta cried out as he entered her and then clamped her hand over her mouth, muffling a laugh into her palm. Cassian grinned at her, but his smile quickly melted away as his eyes took on a look that made Nesta wonder if he wasn’t the one doing a job on her. 

Cassian placed one hand underneath her and the other on the small of her back, anchoring her as he thrust, slow at first, letting her adjust between the mass of him in front of her and the cold marble she was seated on. But Nesta urged him on until he finally began pressing harder and faster, and Nesta was forced to fall back onto her elbows. She’d have bruises, later that day. She didn’t care.

A gentle _fuck_ escaped Cassian’s lips as he thrust into her, even as Nesta kept her hand clamped over her mouth, stifling her moans but somehow urging him on. 

Cassian finished, then lifted Nesta off the sink and held her against the wall until she came around his fingers. When the doorknob rattled again, they both ignored it. They breathed heavily, Nesta a quivering mess against Cassian, and she looked into the bathroom mirror. They looked like a couple in love. They looked like a man and a woman who couldn’t have waited a second to have one another. And Cassian only looked at her. 

They left the restroom hand in hand, ignoring the maitre d’s requests to please, remember that they were in a public restaurant and that the establishment would be forced to turn them away in the future. 

Both of them grinning, they were greeted by the daylight and a driver ready to take them anywhere they wanted to go.

“So,” Nesta said, “What did you have in mind for this weekend away?”


End file.
